My darling little girl, I don't know what to say now you're gone. Now it's safe to walk with sock covered feet, we'd pay dearly to have those toes attacked again. You ruthlessly pursued those enemy feet at every opportunity- a staunch soldier always ready to do battle. Unless of course there was a treat to be had, but even soldiers have to eat.
Every time I make a sandwich I think about my little Sherpa scaling that cage.
I remember the Christmas where you carefully took each piece of wrapping paper off to your little hiding place under the dresser, or behind the couch. You were so earnest and determined, we rolled up little balls of paper for you to take and play with.
I also remember the Christmas where we got the Octoplay, and how you and the rest of the business played until we had to carry you back to the cage, limp as little dishrags.
You were so determined to climb every obstacle- to summit every mountain whether it was the laundry hamper or the dressers. I remember you slipping into the bottom kitchen drawer and coming out the top- carefully walking across the silverware.
You never bit a hand or finger, even as a kit, we could trust you with the smallest child. Often our fears were from the child's behavior, not yours. You were a beautiful little cinnamon point, worthy of being in shows- at least in our biased opinion.
I also remember that after all that climbing, you appreciated a good nap- preferably in some custom made comfy ferret bedding- who doesn't appreciate fine craftsmanship?